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Oswald was tired of the apartment. There was never enough to eat, and the food was either too bland or too sweet there was no in between. Most of the books were non fiction, and he had already read all the mysteries in the library. And the piano was no fun to play alone.
Ed Nygma either kept his secrets well hidden, or he did not have any.
Oswald looked at the clock again. His strange host was now an hour late from coming home from work. He picked up his cell phone to check if he had missed a call from Ed, but there was nothing. His work must have kept him at the station, but he usually called to let Oswald know when that happened.
Not that he was worried about his would be roommate. Other than what it would mean for himself if something had happened to Ed, or worse if his coworkers at the GCPD had figured out they had a killer in their midst who was also hiding Gotham’s most wanted Penguin at his apartment, of course.
Maybe it was finally time to leave.
The door jingled as someone fit the key in the damaged doorknob.
Oswald looked around quickly for a weapon. He grabbed the largest kitchen knife on the counter and held it in front of him.
Ed Nygma opened the door and looked at the knife unfazed. “Were you making something to eat, Mr. Penguin?” He held up one of the bags he was balancing in his arms. “No need. I picked up dinner before coming home.”
“Looks like you picked up enough to feed the entire GCPD.” Oswald lowered his knife, but kept it in hand. Just because he had decided to use this young man did not mean he trusted him.
“No, silly goose, or, penguin I suppose. These bags don't all contain food. But they're a surprise.” Ed giggled.
Oswald tightened his fist around the knife’s handle. Any ‘surprise’ from Nygma could be anything from a child’s puzzle game to torture devices.
“Have you brought home another pet?” And Oswald did not mean the four legged variety.
“Nope. These things are for you.” Edward grinned widely. He dropped the bags on the table.
Somehow that did not make Oswald feel better, though he supposed it was meant to.
Edward placed the greasy bag with the golden arches on the counter. He took out a burger, unwrapped it at one end, and offered it to Oswald. “Here eat this.”
There was a moment where Oswald thought about stabbing his host with the knife in his hand and make a run for it. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? He was staying here by his own free will, wasn't he?
Oswald knocked the burger out of his hand. “I have not yet sunken low enough to eat that refuge.”
“There's more in there for when you get hungry.” Edward wiped his hands on his trousers. “I brought a fish sandwich if that would be more to your liking, Mr. Penguin.”
Oswald moved forward without thinking and grabbed Edward by the collar. “I have killed men for far less offense, friend. Consider this your last warning.” He moved back and smoothed Edward's collar back down. “If we are to be friends, than call me Oswald.”
His eyes were wide behind his glasses. But not with fear. The man was excited, Oswald realized. He might have even said aroused.
Ed Nygma was a very strange man indeed.
“Yessiree, Mr. Oswald.” Edward grinned. He took one of the bags from the pile and handed it to Oswald. “Open this one first.”
Oswald took the bag not without some trepidation. It was light enough that it might have been empty. He carefully opened the top and looked inside.
He lifted out the purple material and looked up at Edward.
“They're pajamas, Mr. Oswald.” Edward bounced on his feet. “I got your favorite color.”
“I can see they are pajamas.” Oswald was not sure he wanted to know how Edward had known his favorite color. “Why?”
“I know you're getting bored. I thought we could have a sleepover.” Edward grinned.
“A sleepover?”
“Yeah. You know, like when you were kids.”
“Did you have many sleepovers as a boy?”
“Well… no. Not really. None actually.” Edward shrugged. “But I read about them and saw them on television. I always thought they seemed like a fun thing to do, if one had a friend to do it with.”
There were times Oswald almost felt pity for the younger man. If he did not remind him so much of himself.
Oswald sighed. “This apartment is only so big, Edward. You could say we have been having a sleepover every night.”
“But I've been sleeping on the couch.”
He could not possibly be suggesting what Oswald thought he was.
“Are you saying you want to sleep in the same bed?”
“I would like that very much.”
The sofa had to be uncomfortable for someone as lanky as Ed he supposed. Though Oswald had become somewhat fond of the bed, it would be only fair.
“I guess I have been monopolizing your bed. I will take the sofa tonight.”
“No. No. No. You're a guest. And you're still healing.” Edward shook his head. “And the bed is big enough for both of us. Pretty please?”
There were worse things than sharing a bed with a pretty boy, Oswald supposed.
“Alright. But I get the left side. I have grown accustomed to it.”
“Perfect. I usually take the right anyway.” Edward giggled. “It's fate.” Edward picked up another bag identical to the one he had given Oswald. “I got a matching set in another color. So we'd match. You can change in the bathroom. I'll change out here.”
It would be nice to change clothes finally, Oswald admitted.
Edward kicked off his shoes and took off his jacket. He started to unbutton his work shirt, and Oswald knew he should leave but it was not as though Nygma seemed to care.
Ed pulled the shirt off and tugged his undershirt over his head. Old scars crisscrossed across the other man's back. There were too many to be an accident and Oswald felt a surge of anger for whoever had placed them there.
But he also could not help but notice that Ed had a nice form hidden underneath ill-fitting cheap suits. Maybe when he returned he would gift Nygma with a tailored suit worthy of fitting such a form as a thank you.
Edward turned his head over his shoulder. “Is something wrong, Mr. Oswald?”
“No.”
Nothing except he was lusting after his would be kidnapper. He felt like an heroine from one of his mother's trashy romance novels that he had snuck into his bed as a boy.
Oswald limped towards the bathroom. His leg hurt more than usual, it would be a cold night. He was glad Ed had not taken him up on the offer to sleep on the sofa.
He turned on the bathroom light and closed the door. There was no lock, which was not so strange, Nygma did live alone in an abandoned building that he had refurbished himself, and there was no reason for one.
Also, the bathroom had no mirror. Though it was obvious that one had been recently forcibly removed from the cabinet above the sink. Actually, there were no mirrors to be found anywhere in the apartment. It would have made shaving a challenge if Nygma did not help him shave every morning before he left for the station.
Oswald stripped off the borrowed robe and pajama top. His side was still bandaged though the wound was mostly healed. But Edward insisted it needed more time to heal. And his ribs hurt when he moved, he thought one or more of them may have been cracked during the attack.
He pulled off the pajama bottoms he had been wearing since he woke up in Nygma’s bed. Oswald contemplated taking a shower before changing. It would be nice to be clean before putting on the new clothes.
But what Oswald really wanted was a long soak in a deep bathtub. It was time to get back to his life. He would humor Nygma tonight and leave while he was at work the next day.
He quickly put on the pajamas Edward had bought him. The cotton was soft if not as rich as he had grown accustomed to. But it was nice to be wearing something that was not too big on him. He had lost some weight since being here he noticed.
Oswald left the bathroom, turned off the light.
He found Edward checking the locks on the front door. His own pajamas were green, which should have come as no surprise. He turned and smiled when he saw Oswald.
“Purple is truly your color, Mr. Penguin. Did you know the color is often associated with royalty and power?” Edward paused. “And it brings out the colors in your eyes.”
If Oswald were anyone else he might think the young man flirted with him. But in his experience people who complimented him always wanted something. He did not know what Nygma wanted from him but he was no different.
“I am also rather partial to the color of money.”
“Money is not the same thing as riches, as I'm sure you know. And meaningless without power. Purple also represents ambition and respect.”
“What of the color green?” Oswald gestured to Edward's pajamas.
“Green can symbolize greed, vanity, and envy. And lust. Or it is the color you get when you mix yellow with blue.” Edward shrugged. “It is only a color, Mr. Oswald. Take off your shirt and sit on the bed, I'll change your bandage before we begin.”
Oswald sat on the bed, he noticed that Ed had already put out everything he would need to change the wrapping. He started to unbutton the pajama top. “You could have saved me the trouble of doing this before I changed.” He slid off the one side only. “The skin has healed and it hardly hurts anymore. Surely, I will soon no longer need wear it.”
“Most reinjuries occur at the end of the healing process because the patient believes they are completely healed and stops treatment too soon.” Edward unraveled the bandage and begun the process of cleaning the wound. “You must trust me and be patient a little longer, Mr. Oswald.”
The cleaning agent was cold on his exposed skin, but Edward's fingers were warm. As always Ed’s touch was carefully respectful. But there was something about it that gave him goosebumps on his naked flesh.
And was it is his imagination, or did Nygma’s fingers linger unnecessarily on his skin while his would be host dressed the wound.
“When do you believe I will be ready to leave?”
“It is difficult to say without the proper equipment.” Edward prodded his ribs, Oswald flinched. “I suspect you have at least two cracked ribs. I recommend staying two more weeks, maybe three.”
Oswald had already stayed longer than he had intended.
“I need you to set up a meeting with Jim Gordon. You will invite him here after work for drinks.”
“Gordon? He will not come. We are not exactly friends.”
“He will come. Tell him you have rescued a little flightless bird that wishes to speak to him.”
“I will do as you request. However, Gordon cannot be trusted.”
“Jim Gordon can always be trusted to do the right thing.” This also made him easy to manipulate. And Oswald planned to exploit that. “But first I believe I agreed to a sleepover.” Oswald buttoned his top.
Edward smiled and walked towards the bag he had left on the table and brought it back to the bed.
“In 3000 BC China used this product on their nails to distinguish between the ruling class and the general public.” Edward held up the small bag. “What is this product?”
Ed sat on the bed across from him.
“What is… nail polish?” It was not the first time his host had asked such a question, at least it was an easy one. If it made no sense in context.
“Correct!” Edward opened the bag and held up a small bottle of nail polish. “I thought we could paint each other's fingernails.”
Oswald thought Edward might be a bit confused about the idea of boyhood sleepovers. But he was hardly one to follow gender norms himself.
“Not sure what the GCPD will think of their forensic technician walking into work tomorrow with painted nails.”
“Maybe just one nail then.” Edward twisted the bottle open and took Oswald’s hand. “Did you know in 3200 BC warriors in Babylonia would paint their nails before battle?” Ed began painting his nails. “The darkest colors were reserved for their leaders and warriors.”
Edward finished one hand. Oswald noticed the color he had chosen was a purple so dark it was almost black. He started on the other hand.
Edward finished all ten fingers.
Oswald took the brush from Edward as prompted and proceeded to paint one nail on his left hand.
Nygma put his right hand in the bag.
“The Spanish word meaning ‘mask’ or ‘stain’, what is this item?”
“I don't know.” Oswald was tired of games.
“The first use of this product is believed to have been composed of water, honey, kohl, and crocodile manure. And was believed to protect the eyes against the harsh sun.”
“What is sunglasses?”
“The modern version of this product is applied by the use of a wand. But use too much of this product and have the appearance of wearing a bandit mask.”
“What is… mascara?”
“Correct!” Edward grinned and held up a tube of cheap mascara, the sort bought in any drugstore.
“Might be rather difficult to apply without a mirror.” Oswald paused. “I don't suppose you have a mirror hidden in that bag of yours.”
“I do not care for mirrors.” He untwisted the tube of mascara and pulled out the wand. “Permit me to apply it for you.” Ed tilted Oswald’s face up. Oswald closed his eyes.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I thought you could use some cheering up.” Edward started on the other eye. “You're eyelashes are quite fair. Is that why you always wear black mascara? By the way I also bought a box of black hair dye and hair gel. I'll leave it for you tomorrow when I leave for work.”
Perhaps Oswald should be thankful there were no mirrors in the apartment.
“I'm done. You can open your eyes.”
Oswald opened to his eyes to his own reflection on a small handheld mirror. Ed had done a surprisingly good job. He had even added eyeliner and some dark eyeshadow.
“Not bad. I would not have thought makeup artist was one of your many hidden talents. Where did you learn such skills?”
“My first job was assistant to an old mortician with shaky hands. I did all the makeup on our recently departed guests.”
Oswald lowered the mirror. He could never tell if Nygma was being funny or not.
Edward put all the eye makeup back in the bag and took out a tube of clear lip gloss. Edward leaned forward to apply it to Oswald’s lips. Ed’s face was mere inches from his own.
His heart pounded in his chest with the closeness. There was no denying that Nygma was a very attractive man. But there was also something very disturbing about the young man.
Oswald glanced down at the mirror still in his hand. It was angled away from Nygma.
“The earliest lipstick known to history was made from crushed precious stones.” Ed brushed his thumb against Oswald’s bottom lip. “You deserve crushed amethysts but this will have to do.”
Oswald jerked away. And held the mirror up. The lip gloss had purple glitter in it. It was gaudier than he would pick for himself. But it was nice to have something on his face again.
Before Ed could put the lip gloss back in the bag Oswald took it from his hand. Edward allowed him to apply it to his lips. When he was finished he held the mirror up to him.
“What are you doing?” Ed pushed the mirror away.
“Making sure you had a reflection. I was beginning to wonder.” Oswald chuckled. “Why don’t you like mirrors, Edward?”
“I only exist when you are here where you never were, I can never be, what am I?”
“Reflection… you are hardly a hideous beast under a curse, Edward. Some may even call you attractive. Why do you dislike your reflection so much?”
“Some cultures believe a mirrored reflection shows the viewers true self, or soul if you will, that is where the legends of vampires having no reflection originated, they had no soul therefore they had no reflection.” Edward looked down at the small mirror without touching it. “But a mirror does not show a true reflection. Everything in its surface is flipped. If it does show your soul, it is a backwards image. Some believe our reflections show the evil side of our souls.”
“I would not have pegged you as superstitious, Edward.”
“It is not superstition, Mr. Oswald.” Edward looked up at Oswald. “I do not like the me I see in the reflection very much. He is not me. And I do not wish to become him.”
It sounded to Oswald as though Ed suffered from a form of image dystopia, and growing up as a short fat child Oswald could understand not liking mirrors. There were still moments that he could only see the boy he had been in the mirror.
Oswald handed Edward the hand mirror facedown. Ed put it back in the bag and placed the bag aside.
“What else does one do on a sleepover?”
Edward grinned.
“Truth or dare?”
Oswald weighed his options. Truth could be dangerous. But a dare from Nygma could be even more so. And he could always lie if need be.
“Truth.”
Edward grinned. “Have you ever been kissed?”
Oswald wondered if Edward was following some sort script from an old movie he had watched as a teenager.
“My first kiss was with a good girl my mother set me up with. She was nice but there was nothing there.” He shrugged. “And apparently she agreed. She and her wife just celebrated their five year anniversary. The second kiss was everything the first was not. Unfortunately he turned out to be an undercover cop who was only using me to get close to Fish.”
“What happened to him?”
Oswald did not want to think about Him.
“I have not played many games of truth and dare but I believe the rules are you only get to ask one question for each truth.Truth or dare, Edward?”
“Dare.”
“I dare you to kiss me.”
Oswald did not know why he said that. But he expected Edward would give him a quick peck near the mouth and that would be that.
“Okie dokie.” Ed giggled, leaned forward too quickly and bumped Oswald backwards onto the bed. “Oops. Sorry.” Ed straightened his glasses and bent over Oswald.
He felt as though he was about to be kissed by an overeager oversized puppy. He almost called off the dare but before he could he found himself being kissed by Edward.
Oswald unsure where to put his hands placed them on Edward’s sides. It was obvious that the younger man did not have much experience kissing, if any. Not that Oswald had much more. Ed suddenly stuck his tongue in his mouth, almost causing Oswald to gag.
Edward pulled away when Oswald coughed. “Was that okay?”
“You have not kissed many people, have you?”
“Um. Actually you were the first.” Ed blushed.
“I would give it a six, maybe a seven.” Oswald chuckled. “But a nine for effort.”
“You're leaving aren't you?” Ed laid his head on Oswald’s uninjured shoulder.
“I cannot stay here forever, Edward.”
“No. I mean I know that. But I'm going to miss this, Mr. Oswald.”
Edward was a very lonely young man in need of a friend. And Oswald was not accustomed to having friends.
“Maybe it need not end, Edward.”
“What use does the Penguin have for a nobody like me?”
“You are not a nobody, Ed Nygma.”
Perhaps it would be useful to have a contact in the GCPD.